


Duets

by Lucy



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-29
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-06 06:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucy/pseuds/Lucy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senior year and all Kurt wants to do is sing during Duets week with his boyfriend. When Rachel cockblocks by stealing Blaine for her song, Kurt is left to make other arrangements. Those other arrangements lead to big changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duets

Kurt stands there clutching the music for  _Don't Go Breakin' My Heart_ , and it's hard to miss the irony of that.

Blaine smiles, wide and doting and conciliatory. "I mean, we sing together all the time, and Rachel has this absolutely amazing idea for our song and she asked me before you did."

Kurt gapes at him. "Before I did? I should have to ask you to sing a duet with me during Duet week! You're my  _boyfriend!"_

"I know, I know," Blaine says soothingly. "But Mr. Schue said himself that duets are just as interesting if they're not couples. Didn't you do one with Mercedes?"

Kurt draws a breath, silently asking Mercedes' little 'god' character for strength. "I sing duets with Mercedes," he answers with he thinks infinite amounts of patience, "because I didn't have a boyfriend in the glee club with me."

Blaine just smiles. "We can duet next week. We did a duet last month, it's not like this is the only week we can..." He sighs. "I'm sorry, okay? I owe you. Seriously. I'll take you out this weekend, whatever you want."

Because at the end of the day Blaine likes Rachel's voice and Rachel's ideas, and Blaine will do whatever will make Blaine look the best.

Kurt glares at his boyfriend and turns on his heel, music crumpling in his hands.

"Kurt..." is the weak sound that follows him, and of course Kurt doesn't stop. Dramatic exits aren't dramatic if they pause.

God, okay, and he shouldn't even be surprised. Blaine adores him, he knows that, whatever, but he's do damned worried about what he looks like and who he impresses. Every minute of the day, whether he's letting go of Kurt's hand in the hallway the minute a pack of letterman jackets appear, or singing with Rachel in glee because he knows they're the two divas and every song is a showstopper.

It's always about how to make the best impression, and it changes minute to minute, and it's  _annoying._ Yes, Blaine and Rachel will sing an amazing song, but so what? They'll sing together at sectionals, at regionals, at nationals. They're the new Rachel-and-Finn, and Finn is the new Sam, and Kurt is right where he always is. A voice in the chorus.

* * *

"I love Blaine," he says to his chemistry textbook later that day. "I do. I mean, he's perfect, why would I not? But..."

"Is this gonna go in any direction that has  _any_ thing to do with your fucking chem test?" comes the answer.

Kurt scowls at his book, and then up at the owner of that voice. "I am completely unable to focus on chem until this goes in the direction it's going in. Good enough for you?"

Dave scowls right back at him, but it's mild. It usually is from Dave these days, no matter how often Kurt picks at him. "Look," he says, "I know I'm gay or whatever, and we're friends or something. But that doesn't make me your little gay friend, okay? I don't want to hear about your boyfriend bullshit. I'm not gonna help you work out your problems, and in case you're planning to ask again today the way you do every day, I am never letting you take me shopping. Okay?"

Kurt sighs, but studies Dave for a moment, thoughtful. "I mean, you. You know? Why can't Blaine be more like you?"

Dave blinks, and his cheeks go pink. "Why the hell would you want your preppy little arm candy to be like me?"

"Not  _like_ you, obviously. Just...you're exactly the same every single day, no matter what. Blaine is a different person depending on the crowd around him and what kind of image he wants to project. It's  _weary_ ing. I never know if it's okay to hold his hand or if he's going to laugh at my Gaga impression or shush me with that stupid little  _shush_ face of his, that 'darling you're just so cute but you really need a gag' look he gets."

So patronizing. Really.

Kurt doesn't care who's around. Kurt wants to hold his boyfriend's hand in the hallways and sing a chorus of Judas whenever he wants, without having to scope out the faces in the crowd first. And if he's okay with making an ass of himself in the name of being himself, that should be good enough.

_Dave._ Dave is nothing like Blaine, in the good and the bad ways. Dave is simple, Dave is just Dave.

Dave decided that if Kurt knows he's gay, and Blaine knows he's gay, and Santana knows he's gay, then screw it. He's just going to be gay.

He called Finn over the summer for Kurt's number, and texted him when he told his parents. Texted him from one of those family medicine clinics after he told Azimio and took a fist in the face in response.

Kurt drove down to see him when Dave mentioned that he had to get a dozen stitches, and when Kurt gaped at the gash over his eye Dave just shrugged.

"Fuck him," he said simply. "I told him it didn't change anything, he's the one who thinks it's such a big fucking deal."

Kurt had been surprised by that attitude, since judging from the elaborately constructed closet he found Dave in, he would have thought it would be a big deal to Dave. But the more he gets to know Dave, over PFLAG organization planning sessions or Dave helping him with his irritatingly mandatory chemistry class, the less surprised he is.

When Dave told him in Figgins' office last year that he wasn't even sure he  _was_ gay, it turned out he actually meant that. It turned out that his closet wasn't built from macho pride or fear. It turned out he actually seriously didn't know, and was learning things about himself. What he was scared of most was making the wrong choice. Assuming that his attraction towards guys was a fluke of growing up, and his lack of attraction to girls was just a slower kind of development than most of the guys his age.

When he did accept it, that was all it took to give him peace with it.

Kurt's impressed with Dave, really. He came to terms with himself over the summer, and when he got back to school there was no huge coming out moment. Half the people around knew thanks to Azimio, and Dave just shrugged when he was asked and didn't seem to understand why people thought it was a big deal.

In Dave's head, since he's been gay his whole life and just didn't know it, than obviously the people who liked him last year ought to like him now. He's the exact same person.

And that's maybe what Kurt likes most about Dave. He  _is_ the exact same person. He's the same smug oaf around Kurt that he is with the guys on the team. The one time he went to Kurt's place for a tutoring session he was only a slightly more polite version of that smug oaf to Kurt's dad and Carole.

He's still dealing with some things, but Kurt doesn't have to worry about who he'll be tomorrow versus who he is today.

Kurt sighs. "Am I asking too much? Honestly? Wanting to sing a duet with my boyfriend during the most romantic week we get in glee club?"

Dave looks up at him. "You gonna drop this if I answer?"

"Maybe."

Dave sets his pencil down and sits back. He studies Kurt, like some part of his answer requires it.

Kurt's eyebrows go up and he waits.

Dave shrugs after a minute. "Screw him."

"That's it? That's not a satisfying answer, David."

Dave flashes a faint smile. "You're his fucking boyfriend, dude. It's a song you're doing in front of the other dorks in the glee club. It's not gonna make his fucking career or anything. There's no damned reason why what his boyfriend wants to do shouldn't be the most important thing in this dude's head, and if he'd rather sing some pretty little tune with Berry because he thinks it'll look better in front of the dorks, then his priorities are fucking fucked."

Kurt considers that.

Dave grins. "Satisfying?"

"A little vulgar," Kurt considers, "but yes, actually. Satisfying and correct, damn it."

"So we can worry about hydrogen now?"

Kurt sighs and looks down at his book. "Fine." But when Dave gets going about the spins of electrons or whatever the hell this chapter is about, Kurt finds himself watching Dave instead of reading along. And he's back to smiling by the time the lesson is over.

* * *

The worst thing is that Blaine's mood swings and changing persona aren't the only things Kurt has lost patience with lately. The whole thing has gotten wearying.

During the week, since Blaine's parents live in Jullen, Blaine stays at Kurt's place in the guest room. Every morning it's a fight for the bathroom and a ride to school together, a kiss on the cheek before they get out of the car and once they get in after school. Dinner with the family, and Blaine works part time at a singing telegram service and Kurt has PFLAG and shopping and tutoring, but Blaine comes in every night to talk about his day and wish Kurt goodnight.

Kurt should be on top of the world. He's got Blaine right there where he wants him, all the time. He can recite the steps it takes to get from the guest room to his, he knows the singsong words and tones of Blaine's 'good morning' and 'sweet dreams' every day and night.

He knows what they'll talk about on the ride to school and home. He knows the smile Blaine will give him in the halls when they pass between classes, and the way Blaine will pat the chair beside him at lunch when Kurt comes in inevitably five minutes late, and the way Blaine will turn and direct half his conversation to Tina and Mike so that he's not too close to Kurt where the rest of the school can see.

It's ridiculous that he should consider himself stuck in a rut with this guy who changes so many times in the course of one day. It's ridiculous that Blaine cares about who sees him and Kurt gaying together when everyone knows that they're gay and they're dating.

And Dave is right – it's not right for Blaine to put how he looks in the eyes of the New Directions over and above how his boyfriend feels about something important to him. It's not like Kurt was subtle in his badgering Blaine about his favorite duets, and the most stirring duets, the most romantic duets.

Maybe Kurt is silly for making a big deal out of it. But it means something to him, after two years of watching all the happy little straight couples singing out their lives during duet week. It means something that he actually has a chance for a real couple duet. It should mean something to Blaine, even if they  _did_ sing together last month. It wasn't even a duet, anyway, Kurt sang the harmony on that slow and soppy Nelson song Blaine wanted to sing so badly.

Teenage Dream, Kurt finds himself thinking more often than not. The very first day he met Blaine he watched him singing Teenage Dream, and he should have known from the start that Blaine was singing about himself.

He wants to sing Don't Go Breakin' My Heart. He's wanted to sing it ever since that Anne Hathaway Cinderella movie that he still watches like once a month because Anne is gorgeous and, shut up, the prince is smoking hot. And it's  _romantic._

He wants romantic. He doesn't want it as a favor Blaine owes him for singing his Duet with Rachel. He wants holding hands I the halls and kissing without having to look around the room first. He wants to be the most important thing in Blaine's mind.

* * *

Dave really isn't Kurt's little gay friend. At least, not the way Kurt pictured it. He used to think of having a gay friend as having someone he could giggle with, talk about boyfriends, share experiences without there being any kind of sexual component to it.

Kind of like what he and Blaine used to have, if Kurt hadn't been blinded by adoration.

But Dave isn't like that. Dave hasn't had boyfriends, and doesn't talk about the idea of getting himself one. He and Kurt talk about the fact of being gay, the way Dave's dad sometimes asks awkward questions about The AIDS, or the time some idiot on the football team asked Dave if taking a dump feels good for gay guys ('since, like, the  _butt_ ,' Dave recounted with a dry earnest look that had Kurt doubled over with laughter).

Dave listens to Kurt bitch about Blaine, which is nice. But he doesn't seem all that...interested? Into it?

Gay. He doesn't really seem all that  _gay_ the way Kurt imagines it.

He's just Dave, pretty much all the time. If Kurt wants someone who will snap their fingers and roll their eyes and say 'oh  _hell_ no that boy didn't' than he has to chase down Mercedes.

Dave doesn't hide his sexuality, Kurt just can't really tell if there's anyone he's into. Considering that Dave is on the edge of eighteen, that's kind of weird. Most teenage boys aren't subtle.

There's a new sophomore, Rory, an exchange student from Ireland that thankfully has joined Glee. Kurt thinks maybe Rory has his eyes on Dave; he watches like a hawk with these big dark eyes whenever Dave swings by to grab Kurt from rehearsal to go study. 

He looks like a child compared to Dave, it would never work. He grins a lot and talks with that Colin Farrell accent that is just so unfair, but Kurt is pretty sure if he asked Dave about him Dave wouldn't know who the hell he was talking about.

There's a new junior, a transplant from Chicago, a scary-looking pale guy with these huge dreadlocks that Kurt watched warily until he heard Quinn talk about him and learned this kid is like a Jesus Freak hard core. And sometimes Kurt thinks that Dave notices that guy, Dreads for Christ, whatever his name is. But Dave doesn't mention it, and the looks Kurt notices might not be any different than the looks most of the other students give this guy.

He's brave for the hair, and somehow he's made it the first couple of months without getting ambushed by the football team and a pair of lawn-trimmers. But he'd be awful for Dave, of course, since the last thing Dave needs is some kind of holy guilty trip.

Dave needs someone who can help him. Whoever his first boyfriend is needs to be someone who can make him happy, not make him feel guilty about Jesus. Or someone with a stupid cute  _brogue_ who seems so young that Dave would look like a pedophile going out with him.

Dave needs...a Blaine, maybe. His own Blaine, his own 'let me introduce you to gay' charmer who can validate all his life choices for him. A starter boyfriend.

And Kurt? Kurt maybe needs to stop worrying about Dave and start thinking about himself, and his sudden habit of thinking of Blaine as his own starter boyfriend. First in a line, not the one and only.

* * *

"Okay." Kurt draws in a breath and holds out the sheet music. "I've been giving this a lot of thought."

Blaine comes in with a smile, his conservative plaid pajamas as pressed as any of his school clothes. "Oh? What's this?" He takes the music, but sighs when he sees what it is. "Kurt, Rachel and I are singing tomorrow."

"And that's what I've been thinking about," Kurt states. He sits cross-legged on the bed, surveying Blaine carefully. "This duet is important to me. It's the culmination of two years of dreaming, of watching happy breeder couples croon their love, and me singing some friendship duet with whoever will sing with me. Every year I've thought, why not me? Why can I not be one of the happy couples? And this year I can be. I want to be. It's important to me, and I'm asking you to tell Rachel to work out whatever this drama is that has Finn eating his weight in Cheetos downstairs every night, and sing with me instead."

Blaine sighs. "I just...Rachel already sang this song with Finn, anyway. She was telling me about most of their duet history the other day, and...why would you want to try to follow her?"

Kurt hesitates, careful. "Since it sounds like you're implying that I don't have the voice to follow Rachel Berry, I'm going to pause here and give you a chance to rephrase."

"Kurt." Blaine sits beside him and tosses the sheet music on the bed behind them. "You know I love your voice. It's adorable. Really. But Rachel..."

"Yes?" Kurt cues, schooling his expression with  _such_  difficulty.

"She's got so much passion," Blaine says, smiling in a small and private way that Kurt isn't invited in to share. "I love you, I love your voice, but Rachel is like a one-in-a-million find, you know?"

"And singing with her for some weekly assignment that won't mean anything next week when the next assignment comes...that's more important to you than doing this thing for me."

"Don't put it like that, Kurt, you make me sound selfish."

Kurt regards him. "Which is...false? Is that what you're saying? Because no matter how I phrase it, that's exactly what's happening here."

"I can't talk to you when you're like this." Blaine sighs and stands up. "Good night, Kurt, and I really hope that—"

"We need to take a break."

Blaine's mouth shuts abruptly.

Kurt drags in a breath and looks up at him. "I'm serious."

Blaine gapes. "Because I want to sing a song with Rachel?"

"No. Because you don't care what  _I_ want."

Blaine sits back down instantly. "Kurt. Of course I care, how could you even..."

"Because when I don't change my mind and you walk out of this bedroom, you're going to convince yourself that I'm just jealous of Rachel. Or of you. That I'm mad because you think someone else has more talent, or – sorry – more  _passion_ than I do. Because you think that nothing you do for your own stupid reasons is possibly wrong, and because even if you do care what I want, you still won't do anything about it."

Blaine blinks. "You're serious."

"Yes." Kurt draws a breath. "Now get out."

And ten minutes later, when he goes to the bathroom only to hear Blaine's voice muffled behind his door, whispering into his phone, only then does Kurt feel the scope of what he did, what he chose without any thought at all.

To keep himself from bursting into Blaine's room and apologizing because he wants a boyfriend more than he wants a duet, he texts Dave.

* * *

He can't decide if it's more important to sob or to eat this greasy comfort-food hamburger, so he embarrasses himself by doing both at the same time. Oh, and talking. He talks while sobbing and eating this ridiculously unhealthy thing that Dave has purchased for him through a drive-thru window.

"I just...why wouldn't he  _care_? Why doesn't he  _get it?_ " Kurt wails and talks and eats and sobs, and he's probably absolutely disgusting but Dave sits there and watches him with narrow eyes and doesn't make faces at his grossness.

"He's an idiot," Dave answers finally, when Kurt pauses between words to realize that his own tears have started making the hamburger bun soggy, and ew.

"Seriously," Dave adds when Kurt somehow despairs enough to ignore the ew and shoves another bite in his mouth. "He's a moron. At least when most guys fuck up it's because they have no clue what the hell their girlfriends or boyfriends or whatever want from them. You flat out told this dude, and he told you to fuck off, and that is retarded."

"He didn't tell me to fuck off!" Kurt snaps back, a wad of soggy burger in his cheek. But he thinks about it and his face falls and his tears start fresh. "He did! He really did."

Dave reaches across the console of his truck and pats Kurt on the shoulder awkwardly. "You did the right thing, you know."

"Naaargh mrrphoo," Kurt answers through an entire handful of french fries that he has elegantly jammed into his throat.

Dave's eyebrows go up, but he clears his throat. "I'm serious. I don't know shit about it, maybe, I don't have guys beating down my fucking door, but I do know that when you love somebody they should come first. No matter what."

Kurt sniffles and chews and looks up at him.

Dave flushes. "I'm just saying. If I had...someone. You. Whatever. If it was me, and you said 'this is important to me', that's all it would take."

"'illy?" Kurt answers as he tries to swallow at least a third of the mass in his mouth.

Dave nods and looks away. "Really."

Kurt sits back, feeling oddly appeased. He chews more rationally, swallows, and looks at the remainder of the burger in its thin greasy wrapper. Suddenly it looks vile, and that's a good sign.

"The only other possibly gay guy in glee is Rory," he says after a minute, shoving the burger in its wrapper back into the fast food bag. "I can't sing with him, he looks like he's twelve."

"You gonna sing a song or dry hump him on stage?"

Kurt makes a face, but his mouth quirks up. "I want my big gay love duet, and I won't get it with a twelve-year-old Irish boy."

"Oh, the Irish kid. He's gay?" Dave blinks and looks away, brow furrowed, thoughtful.

Oh god. Danger. Kurt speaks fast, without thinking. "Sing with me."

Dave looks back, and Kurt can tell that Rory Boy is gone from his mind just like that. Good.

"What?"

Kurt blinks, and then realizes what he said. He grins weakly. "Well. I can't sing with Rory, and Blaine is an idiot. None of the straight boys would sing with me, and I wouldn't want them to. That leaves you."

"I'm not in glee, Kurt."

"Well? You can guest-star for one episode." Kurt grins, and it's an insane and random idea but he's settling into his own insanity. "If Rachel's ex-boyfriend can show up as a coach, I can invite a guest-singer for one duet."

Dave gapes at him. "Kurt. Dude. I don't even..."

"What? Sing?" Kurt frowns. "We can get around that."

"No, not..." Dave flushes instantly. "I mean, no, I don't sing like you guys sing. But...I hate that fucking song."

Kurt blinks. "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart? Don't worry, I'm not doing that one. I couldn't possibly presume to follow the great Rachel Berry, after all. We'll do something else. What range do you sing?"

Dave's shaking his head through half of Kurt's words. "Wait a minute. You're insane, and you're pissed at Blaine and you've probably just eaten more grease in one sitting than that douchebag wears in his hair. Take a fucking breath, man. This? Is not an idea."

"Sure it is!" Kurt makes a face after a moment. "Please don't ever remind me of the things I just ate. We're going to pretend it never happened. And yes, it's a  _good_  idea. It's unexpected! We have until Friday, we can do something awesome!"

"It's Wednesday."

Kurt frowns. "Don't be negative. It'll be fun. We have all of tomorrow afternoon. I'll even let you get out of French tutoring."

Dave blinks, but shakes his head. "It's really not a good idea. I promise, it's not."

"Why not?"

Dave rubs at the back of his neck, looking out the windshield at the empty parking lot around them. "I, um. I can't...I get really..."

Kurt frowns at him, his tense profile. "What? Nervous? Stage fright? What about when you danced with everyone at half time last year?"

Dave shrugs, broad shoulders lifting and falling heavily. "That was different. We weren't even supposed to be all that good, nobody expected anything. And it was the whole team; I don't give a shit how bad I am, I'm sure as hell not the worst one of that group. And...it wasn't  _singing_. It especially wasn't..."

"What?" Kurt cocks his head, studying Dave.

Dave flushes and glances over. "It wasn't singing in front of  _you._ "

"Me?" Kurt smiles. "I promise, I'm not as judgmental as I come across sometimes. You're doing me a favor, Dave, I wouldn't laugh at you, or..." He hesitates then.

Dave looks away, out the side window.

Kurt blinks, and blinks again. He frowns out at the asphalt around the truck. Dave's his friend; they had an awkward start to say the least but it had built into real friendship. Dave came to get him, after all, after ten on a Wednesday night, because Kurt texted that he needed to talk.

Dave's his big gay friend, except he isn't at all.

Kurt dumped his boyfriend like ten minutes ago, this is absolutely no time to be having any kind of revelations about...

But he clears his throat and tests out this theory, this thing his mind is telling him about Dave and his reactions. Remembering what Dave said about Blaine and his stupidity, Kurt speaks simply.

"This is important to me."

Dave sucks in a breath, wincing a little like he knows he's been found out. Then he nods. "Fine."

Oh.

Kurt studies him.

Dave reaches out abruptly and starts the engine of the truck. "Just pick something soon, I probably won't know anything you know. Email me so I can Youtube it or whatever tonight, and don't expect much tomorrow."

They're halfway back to Kurt's house when Dave finally looks over, only to find Kurt still studying him. "I'm not  _Blaine,"_ he says, voice strangely grim.

Kurt nods. He has to go back to his house, to his bedroom across the hall from Blaine, who he just  _broke up with_ , but he smiles suddenly and it doesn't feel fake at all. "You're Dave."

Dave sighs, but relaxes his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

* * *

It's such a stupid choice for a song. It's in such bad taste to even think about singing this with a guy in front of the boy he just dumped (Kurt  _dumped_ Blaine, it still hasn't completely sunk in). It's probably going to push Dave to his gay limits, and it has awkward train wreck written all over it.

But Kurt's eyes skim over the title when he's searching his playlists for duets, and he plays the song, and he can't stop grinning. So that's his choice, and if it's a train wreck what difference does it make? It's only the glee club, and Kurt loves this song. He's never let his choices embarrass him, he isn't going to start now.

He sends Dave a link to a performance on YouTube, and an MP3 of the song itself. Dave probably doesn't read music and Kurt doesn't need it for this song, so he doesn't bother looking it up. Brad will know it, his knowledge of musical theatre is frightening.

He offers Dave a slight out – in the subject line of the email he simply writes  _Too much?_ and figures he'll let Dave make the call.

He doesn't get an answer until the next morning, when he's still a little thrown-off by not getting Blaine's usual 'good morning!' through his door.

_I actually know this one._

That's it, that's Dave's entire response, and Kurt can't stop grinning as he takes his shower.

* * *

"I'm gonna puke," Dave announces as Kurt opens the door and lets him into the house.

Kurt beams. "Don't be silly. You're going to be great. And, no pressure, but Blaine and Rachel moved their big number to tomorrow too, so. Looks like I'll be following the great Rachel Berry whether I want to or not."

"I'm gonna puke a lot."

"Stop it! It's actually funny, really. Blaine made that announcement right after I mentioned to Mercedes that I found someone to sing with after all. He's jealous already, it's funny."

"So much puke. Like, rivers." Dave looks around the living room warily. "Where is the poor man's Efron, anyway?"

"Who?" Kurt grins after a moment. "Oh. He wouldn't consider that an insult, you know. He watches Hairspray obsessively."

Dave snorts. "Of course he does."

"He's with Rachel, rehearsing. And Finn's out with Puck until dinner. Dad's working late and Carole has the nightshift all week. It's just us and the music." He goes to the entertainment center under the TV and slips in his CD.

"I will  _drown you_  in my puke, Kurt." Dave sighs and moves in, tossing his jacket and keys on the couch. "Just fair warning."

"Yeah, that's not helping the mood here." Kurt grins. "Here's my idea – since you're so shy, we'll run through a couple of times with the cast recording, so you can kind of sing underneath their voices if you want. At least while we're blocking out choreography."

"Choreography." Dave sighs. "You're gonna tell people, man. You're gonna say 'it makes no logical sense that that much puke could fit into one person's body'."

"David. Shut up about your puke." Kurt starts the song and turns to face him, grinning. "You're lucky there won't be costumes."

Dave rolls his eyes. "I'm pretty sure I could handle my costume. But I'd be on serious Bullywhip duty if you tried rocking the Santa drag."

"As long as you realize that I would totally rock the Santa drag, I'm content." Kurt surveys Dave. "Okay. Get your shoes off. Get comfortable." He starts pushing the coffee table closer to the couch to give them room, humming through his lyrics, content to just listen through it once.

He loves Rent, of course, but there's something about Angel and Collins that does something warm to his insides the way that a lot of musical couples don't. And not just because they're a still-too-rare gay couple. It's something that rumbles through him the moment Collins starts singing.

Maybe his voice. The guy does have a phenomenal voice, and Kurt loves the fact that he's so different from Angel. So strong sounding, deep and low. Kurt doesn't identify with Angel all that much – he doesn't dress in drag, he's not so wide-eyed and sweet and loving. But he is a rather flamboyant kind of guy, and when he was younger he used to listen to their songs over and over again, telling himself that if someone strong and solid like Collins could totally adore this drag queen, than why can't comparatively-boring Kurt Hummel ever find it?

Well. Whatever. _I'll Cover You_ is a brilliant song, it's short and sweet and fun, and happy. And screw Blaine and Rachel and their overdramatic wailing at each other.

Dave gets his ratty sneakers off and loses a layer of flannel before he comes over and shoos Kurt away from the coffee table and lifts and moves the thing like it's made of plywood.

It's timing, only timing, that means Collins starts singing at the very moment Kurt is stuck watching Dave's muscles bunch and flex in the plain grey t-shirt he's stripped down to. And it's Collins, sure, that gets Kurt's gut flaring up. Same as always, really. Nothing different.

Kurt starts singing through the second chorus, trying to imagine what he and Dave could do during the song. Dave wasn't the worst of the group during the halftime show, true, but he doesn't have Mike Chang's natural talent. Which is damning him a bit, really, since no one has Mike Chang's talent, but either way Kurt doesn't want to pile too much on Dave.

He's got the song on repeat, so when it starts again he sings under Angel's voice. He distracts himself by grabbing a few random things, magazines, the tv remote, and moving them over to the coffee table. If Dave is as scared as he says, focusing on other things would maybe help him-

" _Open your door, I'll be your tenant..."_

He stops. That idea flies out the window, and he spins around with remote clutched to his chest.

Dave's toeing his shoes, sitting on the arm of the couch and singing along quietly, focusing. He's quiet, but his voice is pitched to carry and Kurt has no trouble distinguishing him from the recording.

It's rich, low, smooth. It's trained, it is utterly  _beautiful._

Kurt all but runs to the CD player and jams the pause button.

Dave cuts off, looking over in surprise. "What's-" He shuts up when he sees Kurt gaping at him. He drops his eyes and flushes.

"What was  _that_?"

Dave shrugs. Thankfully he doesn't bother faking ignorance, or modesty. "Mom made me sing in the church choir for years," he says sheepishly. "It was kind of a big deal. We made a couple of CDs or whatever."

"Oh my God!" Kurt can't shut his gaping mouth. "But...why are you...what was all that about puke?"

"I told you. I don't sing like you guys. Or Blaine. And I know you want..." He's red-faced somehow. When he opens his mouth to sing the angels tremble, but he's  _blushing._

Kurt moves to the couch fast, reaching out his hands. After half a beat, Dave takes hold.

"Please, please for the love of whatever god trained you to sing, you don't ever try to sing like us, or Blaine, or anyone else. You just keep doing what you're doing."

Dave looks up, and the bashful grin looks  _real._ Christ, if Kurt sang like that...

Well, Kurt does sing like that, he likes to think. Except an octave or two higher.

Dave smiles shyly all the same. "Yeah. I can do that."

Kurt grins, shaking his head and squeezing Dave's hands. "I didn't actually plan to blow Blaine out of the water, but it's going to be pretty hard not to. Want to start again?"

"Sure." Dave smiles, but when Kurt starts to turn Dave doesn't let go of his hands.

Kurt looks back at him, and his stomach is twisting again instantly.

"I meant it, you know," Dave says, meeting Kurt's eyes with simple quiet bravery. "If you were mine...I'd do anything for you."

Kurt swallows and looks down at their hands, Dave's football calloused, broad fingers, and Kurt's pale and long hands nestled against them. He thinks...he's pretty sure that Dave would do anything for him now, as things are. But he doesn't want to find out.

"I only..." His voice catches and he clears his throat, smiling down at their hands. "I only told Blaine we were taking a break."

Dave starts to draw his hands back instantly. "I...it's okay if-"

"So let me talk to him first."

Dave looks up. He doesn't seem to be breathing. "You mean?"

Kurt can't control his grin. "The song feels strangely appropriate now, doesn't it?"

Dave seems to have trouble answering through his own grin.

* * *

He's got it all planned, and it's melodramatic and fantastic and Dave, proving his words true, agrees to it. The whole thing.

He comes to Glee on his own, has a quick conference with Brad to make sure he knows the song and the cues, and sits down beside Mercedes like it's any other day.

Mercedes is feeling no pain – Finn and Rachel's fight led to a rare and absolutely breathtaking duet between Finn and Mercedes the day before, and Kurt is glad he isn't trying to compete with  _that_ , because. Wow.

Just as Kurt suspects, Rachel bounces out of her chair the moment Mr. Schuester asks for volunteers to go first. She grabs Blaine's hand and he grins and follows her up, and...

Well. It's been awkward the last couple of days, but not as awkward as it should have been. Even this morning, even after Kurt went to Blaine's room and explained to him that the 'break' should become something a little more concrete, Blaine still doesn't seem to have trouble smiling at him and driving to school, making eye contact. Blaine is having no trouble not being devastated.

But Kurt's having no trouble not really caring, so it all works out.

Blaine and Rachel blow away a version of Endless Love that is technically perfect and white-toothed and bland, and ends with them holding hands and gazing in each other's eyes in a way that makes Finn glare and makes Kurt wonder.

Mercedes leans over as everyone claps politely for their divas. "Perfection gets kinda old after a while, doesn't it?" she whispers.

Kurt grins as he gives them a nice solid golf clap. "Preach."

"Very good, you two! We may have to put that into contention for sectionals," Mr. Schue says, surprising no one but making Rachel gasp as if she didn't plan that from the moment she asked Blaine to sing with her. "So! Who do we have left?"

Kurt raises his hand, genteel as all hell. "I'd like to go next, if I may."

"Kurt." Mr Schue smiles and gestures. "Who are you partnered with today."

"My partner," Kurt says, "is actually not a member of the glee club." He smiles right in the face of Rachel's appalled gasp. "But since my expected partner was taken from me, I didn't think anyone would mind."

She flushes, and though she doesn't look any less appalled she doesn't voice any objections either.

Blaine sits back, curious, eyebrows hiked up.

"Okay...it's not standard, but I think we can go with it." Mr. Schue sits down on Rachel's other side.

Kurt clears his throat – he texted Dave about halfway through the diva number, the only uncertainty he has is if Dave actually got here in time. But he risks it, speaking his cue line right from the script, pitching his voice to carry. "'I've been hearing violins all night.'"

God, he's such a dramatic child, but he loves it. He loves the momentary pause, the questions on the faces of the audience, and he absolutely  _adores_ watching their expressions when a voice pipes in from the doorway to the choir room.

"'Anything to do with me?'"

He turns, beaming, and luckily it fits the character and the moment.

Dave moves in, eyes on Kurt, utterly ignoring every gasp and strangled noise from the rows of Gleeks behind Kurt. With a grin he holds out his hands as he approaches. "'Are we a thing?'"

Kurt grabs his hands happily. "'Darling, we're  _every_ thing.'"

And the music starts right on cue.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a feeble attempt to begin paying back the queen of Kurtofsky art, Pixolith, for her brilliant work for a couple of my stories. Thanks, Pixo!


End file.
